


Taking Chances

by MillionMileMountain



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: AH OT6, F/M, M/M, Mercenary Ryan, Multi, Ryan's the odd one out, So much angst, Soulmate AU, gta v - Freeform, the other five are all together to begin with
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-17 06:52:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14183319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MillionMileMountain/pseuds/MillionMileMountain
Summary: With five soulmates marked on his skin, most people would say that Ryan is insanely lucky.Ryan would not agree.





	1. Chapter 1

Sitting on top of a roof, the rain just barely drizzling over the city, Ryan can see the lights glow underneath the cloud cover, casting an amber glow over the skyline. Just one little murder, they’d said. It’ll be easy, and we’ll pay you handsomely, they said. And he’d believed them. Now, it’s passing his third hour sitting on the same damn rooftop, and he hasn’t seen hide nor hair of his mark despite the guarantee from an informant that he’d be here. He leans the gun against his leg, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the street as he flexes his hands, fingers cramped form hours of gripping his weapon.

He shakes his arms out, stomach flipping as his sleeve rolls up a bit. The bottom of a word, the letters looping and swirled, peeks out from beneath his sleeve. He sighs heavily, brushing the rain water from his eyes, and rolls the sleeve up to his elbow, exposing the rest of the words resting against his skin. He normally wouldn’t let himself stew over these five names, but with the low rumble of the city traffic and nothing else to do, he lets himself gaze at the names.

The name Michael is near the crook of his elbow, the print bold and sturdy. The names Gavin and Geoff are in a bit of a loopier script, Gavin’s name resting near his wrist. Jeremy and Jack are in the middle, the first word in a bit of a slanted font, and the last name in a simple style with a single flourish underneath. Five names. Five soulmates. Five people who were meant to love him, who he was meant to love. Most people would say that Ryan was insanely lucky.

Ryan would not agree with those people.

Those names have stood out against his already-tan skin since he was a child, a reminder of everything he can’t have. As a kid, the idea of having five different soulmates was exciting. It was a reminder that, no matter what, five people would always be there for him, would always care for him, would always take care of him. As he’d grown older and been thrown into the foster system, he would sometimes imagine his soulmates surrounding him, pressing his fingers into the names and pretending that he wasn’t alone.  
But time has moved on, and he’s abandoned those stupid ideas. He yanks his sleeve down again, picking his sniper rifle back up and aiming it at the bar across the street. Here he was, waiting outside of dive bars in order to murder gangsters in order to get paid by other gangsters, probably getting a cold in the process. He hasn’t slept properly in months or had a proper meal in longer than that. He knows that his soulmates would never love someone like him.

It’s been heard of, people who reject their other halves. It’s not common, but it’s happened before. And with five potential soulmates, with five people supposedly waiting for him, that’s just five chances they’d reject him. And he wouldn’t blame them, really. A mercenary for hire, killing anyone if he’s paid enough without mercy or a second thought. The Vagabond, infamous and feared. Even if they are criminals like him, even if they did have a similarly dubious moral code, he’s too far gone. Too damaged. 

Who would want someone like him?

He’s snapped from his thoughts as the bar door opens across the street, and a man wearing an eerily familiar face walks out. He's seen that face staring back at him from manila folders lined with personal information and frequently visited locations, as well as a number printed at the bottom of the paper: the price he'd receive for ending him. Ramsey, the Kingpin himself, saunters out of the dive bar, stumbling a bit and holding onto a ginger woman for balance. He’s flanked by a buddy, the man’s golden hair glinting in the glow of the street lamps. Ryan adjusts his aim, tightening his finger around the trigger as Ramsey leans against a wall. An immobile target. No wind. No obstructions. The conditions can’t be more perfect.

He isn’t expecting a gun to press to the back of his skull.

“Stand up.” The voice is steady and commanding, and Ryan freezes, Ramsey still in his crosshairs. He peers through the scope, only to find his target peering straight at him, a small smirk playing at his lips. Damn it. They’d known about the hit. How?!

“I said stand up.” The metal of the muzzle presses into his neck, and Ryan’s hands leave his rifle, wavering in the air as he gets to his feet. He turns, and through the drizzle he can see two men standing before him, smirks on their faces that match Ramsey’s. One man, the one with the gun, is quite a bit shorter than him, but the top of his white cowboy hat nearly comes up to Ryan’s chin. His eyes are hidden by a considerably large pair of sunglasses, and his suit…is his suit purple and orange?

“We have eyes on him,” the second man says into his phone, his auburn curls damp and glistening in the rain.

“Good job, Michael,” a voice says from the other end of the call. “You and Jeremy hold him there, we’ll be right up.”

“You got it, boss,” the man, Michael, says, shoving the phone back into his pocket.

Ryan’s stomach flips a bit when he hears the men’s names, just as it does anytime he hears one of the names printed on his forearm. It doesn’t matter that most of the names are fairly common; hell, he’d met two different people names Jack in the same conversation once. Still, no matter how long it’s been, those names still send little waves of hope through his core. He quickly tamps that down.

Ryan remains quiet, tacking stock of his situation. The smaller one (Jeremy, he thinks he heard) has one gun pointed at his head, and Ryan can’t see another one in plain view on the man. The one behind him, Michael, has a small handgun in his waistband just inside the flap of his leather jacket, his hand resting on the grip. He can’t see evidence of any other weapons, but if these guys know what they’re doing they definitely have more than those two little guns. Ryan feels the weight of his own gun pressing up against the small of his back, as well as the rifle sitting by his feet. He might be able to take both of them, if he acts quickly enough.

Just as he tenses up, ready to spring, the door to the rooftop opens again, and in files Geoff Ramsey and the other two from the street. The man and the woman fan out from behind him, each training their firearm on his head. Ryan keeps his hands up in the air, fixing Ramsey with a hard stare. Either Ramsey can’t see his eyes from behind the mask or he’s willfully ignoring the glare, because he sidles up to Michael and Jeremy, putting his hand on the shorter man’s shoulder.

“Holy Christ, that’s creepy as shit,” Ramsey mumbles under his breath, gesturing towards Ryan’s mask.

“Be serious,” the woman chides from behind him, but Jeremy chuckles quietly. “He was trying to kill you just a few minutes ago.” Ramsey just waves her off.

Ryan regards them for a moment, both parties completely silent. Each of the five gang members size him up, their eyes raking his body up and down as options frantically cycle through his mind. The probability of him fighting his way through all five, considering that nearly all of them are on edge with weapons drawn, is slim at best. He could try and flee, but again, most of them have their weapons drawn and his back would make an excellent target. Of course, there’s always the option of taking a quick dive off the side of the building, but only if the situation came to that.

“Who hired you?” Ramsey asks, tone far too nonchalant for someone who knew they were on the wrong end of a gun just a moment ago.

Ryan stays silent. Even if he was a mercenary, he knows that, in the unlikely event he makes it out alive, his employer won’t take kindly to loose tongues. He’d learned the lesson the hard way some time ago and has the scars to prove it.

“Was it Burnie?” Ramsey continues, seemingly unaware of the tense situation. “I knew he had it out for me, I just didn’t think he’d turn so soon. I’ll have to give that fucker a piece of my mind.”

It’s not Burnie. Ryan’s never even heard that name before. He’s working for some small-time crime boss with a personal vendetta, but his mark doesn’t need to know that.

“Eh, it doesn’t matter anyway. He’ll get what’s coming to him. Michael, if you wouldn’t mind.” Ramsey waves to the curly-haired man, and he leers in anticipation, advancing on Ryan with a gleam in his eye.

“Wait!” the squawk cuts through the night air, stopping Michael in his tracks and drawing the attention of the others. Ryan considers making a break for it, just sprinting for the rooftop access door and hoping for the best, but the man with the golden hair is staring at him, blue eyes wide and fixed on Ryan’s, No, not his eyes. Something just to the left of his eyes. Ryan follows his line of sight, and his gaze lands on his wrist, the sleeve rolling up just enough to reveal the black ink of the names.

Ryan’s first instinct is to pull the cloth back up to his wrist, but he’s frozen to the spot, the younger man’s eyes keeping him in place. He moves forward through the crowd, shoving off his crew’s hands as they try to stop him, and soon he’s face to face with Ryan, all tanned skin and grinning mouth.

“May I?” he asks, and Ryan detects a bit of an accent. British, maybe? He doesn’t answer the other man’s questions, too aware of the proximity and the guns trained on his forehead, but Gavin leans in anyway, gently tugging the fabric of his sleeve down further. He doesn’t pull it all the way, but he does reveal the first half of the list, staring at the names with something akin to fascination.

Ryan wants to pull away, wants to cover up the names, but he stays in place as the man investigates, and he knows it’s more than just the threat of death keeping him still.  
The British man looks as if someone has sucked all the air from his lungs, and his eyes flick from the writing on his wrist to Ryan’s eyes and back, lips quirking up in a grin.  
“Michael, you have to see this,” he breathes, and motions for Michael to step forward.

“I don’t think so, Gav,” Michael replies, and Ryan feels a tug in his chest. That name, Gav, is too close to the one resting above his pulse. He’s already met two people with names on his skin tonight; one more seems to be too much of a coincidence.

Michael glances between him and Gav, full of suspicion and wariness, but Gav motions almost excitedly, and Michael moves forward cautiously, his gun still pointed at Ryan’s chest.

Gav points at Ryan’s wrist, the names Gavin and Jack now clearly revealed, Geoff’s name still half-hidden behind a black sleeve. As soon as Michael lays eyes on the names, his eyes blow wide, and he grabs the cuff of Ryan’s shirt, shoving it up the rest of the way. Ryan flinches back on instinct, trying to hide his arm behind his back, but the damage is done. Michael’s seen the rest of the names, the shock written into his face.

Ryan catches Michael’s eyes, full of confusion, and Gav’s eyes are brimming with hope and excitement, and something in his stomach flips. He can’t deny that he’d felt…something when he’d heard Michael’s and Jeremy’s names. But he’d heard those names many times before, belonging to several different people, each just another name, another face. But the way that these people have reacted has something blooming in Ryan’s chest, and he can’t keep himself from hoping.

“Get away from him,” the woman commands, and Michael and Gavin flinch away. “He’s dangerous.”

“I don’t think so,” Gav replies, putting his own gun in the holster, fixing Ryan with a knowing glance. Ryan knows that he can take him; he has his weapon holstered, he’s a lot less guarded than his partners, and he’s physically much smaller and leaner than Ryan. It would only take a minute to take the British man as a hostage. But Gav’s blue eyes, large and piercing, keep Ryan in place as Gav rolls up his own sleeve.

“You won’t hurt me, will you, Ryan?”

Ryan’s heart stops.

There, against the Italian-tan skin, sits five names. Four of them are achingly familiar, echoed against his own wrist. Michael, Geoff, Jack, and Jeremy are outlined in black ink, lined up squarely against the man’s slim forearm. And there, right next to his pulse in large, bold letters, sits another name.

Ryan.

Ryan feels his world tip sideways, and he backs up on instinct, not even realizing how close he is to the edge until Gav—no, Gavin¬—reaches out and pulls him closer. Ryan jerks himself out of his grip, his vision swimming as his mind races.

Five names on his skin. Five people in front of him. They all seem to catch on to what Gavin has discovered, because they’re all pulling back their left sleeves, and all Ryan can see is his name printed above their wrists.

“Well shit,” he can hear Ramsey mutter, and he suddenly realizes he doesn’t know if this man, the man he was hunting just a few minutes ago, is Geoff or Jack. “This is weird.”

“Yeah,” is all Ryan can choke out, and the woman laughs, her voice a little strained and tears glistening in her eyes.

“Well, I guess it’s time for introductions.” The words almost come out as a giggle, and Jeremy holsters his weapons smoothly, tipping his stark white cowboy hat in Ryan’s direction. “Jeremy,” he says, motioning to himself. “But most people call me Rimmy Tim.”

“No one calls you that, dumbass,” Ramsey shoots back, and Jeremy pouts a bit. “Geoff,” Ramsey states.

“Jack,” says the woman standing behind Geoff.

“Michael,” says the curly-headed man, now crouching in front of him, caution still in his eyes.

“Gavin,” the brit chirps, clapping his hands in front of him.

“…Ryan,” he says after a moment, and his voice is small. This is the moment most people talk about their whole lives. The moment when they meet the person or people they’re meant to spend the rest of their lives with, the moment when the rest of their lives spread in front of them like an open map. And, by all reasoning, Ryan should be over the moon. Not only are the five people he’s meant to love right in front of him, but they don’t seem to be too put off by him, especially considering they all had their guns pointed at each other just a few minutes ago.

But still, his heart is beating too fast and his hands begin to shake, and despite being on an open rooftop Ryan feels too closed in.

Gavin reaches out a hand, but pulls it back as Ryan flinches away, the brit looking at him with…pity? Sympathy? Ryan doesn’t know, doesn’t want to know, he just wants to get out.

“This must be a lot to take in,” someone says, and he can see Jack make her way towards him, hands raised and empty. “Trust me, I know it’s a lot to process. So here’s what’s going to happen.” She reaches into her back pocket, movements becoming slow and telegraphed as she sees Ryan’s eyes tracking her hands. “Here’s a card. It has our number on it.” She holds it out towards him, and Ryan eyes it for a moment before snatching it from her fingers. She nods at him with a small smile before backing up. “Whenever you want to talk, just call. If you don’t want to call, no pressure. But know that you have the option. Is that okay?”

Ryan nods mutely, pocketing the card without a word.

“Okay then. We’re going to go now. We won’t follow you, and we won’t try to find you. If you want to come to us, we’ll be there.” She motions behind her without looking and the other men glance at each other or a moment before filing one by one back to the access door, and for a moment Ryan finds himself missing their presence.

When the last man disappears, it’s just Ryan and Jack on the roof, and he’s suddenly aware of how close they are. The two criminals stare at each other, Jack like she’s regarding a lost child, and Ryan like he’s seeing the sun for the first time.

After a long moment, Jack clears her throat, turning to leave. “It was nice to meet you, Ryan,” is all she says before disappearing through the door, and all is silent once again.

Ryan leans against the cement wall, trying to steady his uneven breathing, his body only draining of tension when he hears two cars and a couple bikes tears away from the curb, racing away from the neighborhood.

Ryan digs into his pocket digging out the business card. It has the name Geoff Ramsey printed on it in curving, loopy script, nearly identical to the font on his arm. He twists it back and forth, nearly expecting some sort of tracking device or something of that ilk to be hiding on the paper. But there’s nothing but the name and the contact info, the string of numbers taunting him from the cardstock.

He has half a mind to just toss the card over the side of the building and be done with it. The twisting in his stomach, the way his heart is skipping, the flush to his skin, none of it is pleasant, and he’s severely tempted just to end it all and forget this night ever happened. It would be so easy too; just tell his employer that Ramsey hadn’t showed and walk away. No skin off his nose.

Yet, despite his better judgement, Ryan pockets the business card again, collecting his things and making his way back to his bike hidden around the block. As he speeds his way through the streets, the street lights and cars blurring together in a pleasant backdrop to his midnight drive, the numbers burns into his thigh, and he knows before he even arrives at his apartment that he doesn't really have a choice at this point. He falls asleep in the wee hours of the morning, the sun peeking through his window just as he closes his eyes, the card sitting primly on his bed side table.


	2. The Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan is to call the number and tell his soulmates that he's not interested.
> 
> Apparently Ryan isn't as strong about these things as he'd thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got an overwhelming response to continue this, so I'm gonna give it a shot. I will warn you, I don't have the best of luck with finishing multi-chaptered things, but I will try my best. As always, feel free to leave a comment or kudos if you'd like!

The plan is to ignore the card. Just shove it in a drawer, forget it’s there, and throw it away when he cleans it out in six months. His job is hard enough without the added distraction of his soulmates lingering over his head, and he’s almost glad when the card slips to the back of drawer, almost immediately lost between various scraps of paper and false IDs.

His plan is ruined, however, when he steps out of the shower and wraps himself in a towel, catching a glimpse of his body in the mirror as he starts to change. His hair is a little longer than he usually keeps it, the bangs extending down near his chin, and he makes a mental note to get it cut soon. His eyes are rimmed with dark bruises, but that’s just something he can chalk up to the sleepless nights and excessive makeup underneath a stifling mask.

But the thing that catches his eye the most is his left forearm, the list of names standing out against the pale, scarred skin. It’s been there since he was born, the names as much a part of him as his own body, but he’s been avoiding so much as looking at it for the past week. He lifts the list in front of his face, frowning at the names, at the people behind them.

Ryan had realized several years ago that most people wanted their soulmate to be kind, gentle, and loving. Normal. Most people ended up with teachers or doctors or people who were just genuinely…good. People who make a positive impact in the world, people who make their life brighter just by being there. And Ryan had wanted to be like that for his soulmates, once. It had seemed so simple, once upon a time: just think that you can be a good, and you can be. But fate had had other plans, and Ryan had known for certain that his soulmates wouldn’t want a murderer, an assassin, a heartless killer for hire who has far too much blood on his hands for the average conscience.

But his soulmates apparently aren’t the most morally pure people, either. He’s heard rumors about the Fakes; in Los Santos, you’d have to be living under a rock not to at least recognize the name. He knew about the robberies, the kidnappings, the torturing that the crew does as part of their day-to-day routines. If there are any people who might give the Vagabond a chance to be their soulmate, it would definitely be them.

But still, Ryan can’t let himself hope like that. He’s spent so long behind the mask as the Vagabond, the unstable mass murderer, that he isn’t sure anyone would really want to see past that. What if they try to get to know him and end up disgusted? What if they just…don’t try? Decide that he isn’t worth the time and leave him by the wayside?

But Jack’s voice rings through his head again, just as it had been for the past week whenever he let his thoughts wander. Her kind face, her gentle voice, the way she’d only stepped closer when he’d nodded his consent. Ryan’s mind drifts to Gavin, the man with the wide eyes and mischievous grin and the name resting above Ryan’s pulse. Gavin had seen the mask, known the stories, and had decided to holster his gun. To step closer. _To trust him._

And Michael, who had stepped closer, who had dared to disregard his own suspicion. And Jeremy, whose first instinct was to joke and try to put him at ease. And Geoff, who had let his crew near him, who had apparently trusted him enough not to hurt anyone in his crew despite his reputation. All five of them, each with each other’s names on their skin, with _his_ name on _their_ skin, had almost immediately dropped their guard, almost as if they’d felt a pull, an impulse to trust him.

And Ryan only knows that because he’d felt that pull too. He’d wanted to reach out and take Gavin’s hands when he’d stepped closer. Wanted to smooth out the crinkle in Michael’s brow, to sooth the confusion in his eyes. Wanted to let Jack step closer, to hold her close and finally feel…happy? Complete? After anticipating meeting his soulmates for years, at first with excitement and then anxiety, he’d been expecting feely a little nervous, but the pull, the desire to immediately be closer to these complete strangers, is a bit of a shock.

He drops his arm when it starts to get sore and his eyes water from staring at the marks. He has to do something about this. It’s been on the forefront of his mind all week, invading his thoughts during jobs and his dreams when he would finally get to sleep. He knows this has to stop.

And he knows that there’s only one way to stop this.

..:..:..:..:..:..

The plan is to meet with Jack once, explain why he can’t accept their invitation, and be done with it. Plain, simple, and to the point. But all of that planning flies out of his mind the moment Jack rounds the corner.

When she comes into view, Ryan tries to ignore the way his heart skips. Jack doesn’t seem to notice him yet, glancing down at her phone as she pauses on the sidewalk, and Ryan can’t help but take note that her hair is more curled than last time, glinting in the afternoon sun. He feels the heat try to rush to his cheeks as she finally sees him, her smile glowing bright, but he forces his expression to remain neutral.

As Jack jogs across the street, Ryan has to wonder why he’d chosen an outdoor café to meet. He’d gone through a catalogue of casual and public places for two criminals to meet and chat, and it had been the first thing to fly from his mouth. Now, Ryan feels too hemmed in despite being out under the sun, and he can almost feel the eyes of the patrons turn to him as Jack takes the seat opposite him with a confident grin. With her Hawaiian shirt and large shades perched atop her bright red curls, she could easily pass for a tourist instead of a notorious criminal mastermind.

“Hey, it’s nice to see you again.” Jack’s voice is exactly how he remembers it, and Ryan fights back a smile, struggling to keep an expressionless face. A nearly-uncomfortable silence falls over the two of them, and Ryan hastily picks up a menu, making a show of trying to decide what to eat. He’d already decided ten minutes ago when he’d arrived: a salad with Caesar dressing. But his mind had gone blank as soon as Jack had entered his line of sight, and now that she was sitting directly across from him he was struggling to think straight.

Ryan almost jumps out of his skin when the waiter comes up to their table, kind smile on their lips and their notepad already out. He doesn’t realize he’s reached to tug his sleeve down over his soulmates’ names until he feels the fabric straining against his skin.

“Good afternoon! What will we be having today?”

Ryan doesn’t know if he orders if he’s being honest, the blood rushing through his ears too loudly for him to be entirely sure. All he sees is the waiter grin and take their menus, and suddenly they’re alone again, and Ryan isn’t completely sure what to do with his hands.

“I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure if you were going to call,” Jack says, and she leans back in her chair, keeping her hands clasped together in front of her. “I kind of thought you might have lost the card.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Ryan mumbles, and Jack snickers quietly, her eyes crinkling around the edges.

“Yeah, I get that,” and Ryan has to wonder if she’s telling the truth. “I know this is all pretty new, so I get being nervous.”

“I never said I was nervous.” Ryan’s voice comes out much sharper than he intends, but if Jack notices she doesn’t show it.

“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that it’s a pretty common reaction. You hardly ever meet anyone who is completely okay with their soulmate dropping out of the blue, especially with our…situations.” She spreads her fingers against the table, and a serious look crosses her face. “That’s actually something I wanted to talk about, if that’s all right with you.”

Ryan doesn’t even realize she’d waiting for him to consent until the silence stretches on. He nods, keeping his hands on the table, his fingers idly tearing at a napkin out of habit.

“You know who we are, right?” He nods again. “I was hoping so,” and her grin rests somewhere between cocky and unsure. “Well, we’ve also looked you up. Didn’t really need to, turns out, because you’ve made quite a name for yourself. And the mask is kind of a no-brainer.”

Ryan can’t keep the smirk from creeping up to his lips, and he can see Jack’s smile widen. “I get by,” Ryan says, and Jack chuckles.

“Yeah, you’ve gained quite the reputation. Geoff has even tossed around the idea of asking you to join us once or twice.” Ryan stiffens automatically, and he can see Jack trying to backpedal. “Not recently, of course. You’d popped up on his radar a couple months ago, and you actually really impressed him, which isn’t an easy thing to do.”

Ryan can feel the tension draining away a bit, and he lets a bit of pride rise in his chest. As backwards as it is, it’s almost a satisfying feeling to know that he’d drawn some attention from one of his soulmates, even if Geoff hadn’t known who he was at the time.

“Which is kind of what I wanted to talk about,” Jack starts again, and Ryan can’t help but feel a pang of annoyance when the server comes up to their table, Ryan’s salad in one hand and Jack’s burger and fries in the other. Jack mumbles a quick thank you to the server, and waits until they walk away to turn back to Ryan.

“You know what we do. And you know that it’s not exactly…normal. We’re not your typical people, even for our occupations, and while you’re not ordinary either by any stretch, we all understand if you don’t want this.” She fingers brush absently over her own soulmate tattoos, and he has to stop his own hand from flying to his own marks.

“We know that a lot of people expect to meet their soulmate and immediately fall in love as easily as breathing. But it’s not like that. It’s a lot of awkwardness, and it’s a lot of getting to know each other. Trust me, I’ve have to meet four of my soulmates before this and it was almost overwhelming every time. And, considering what we do, how hard it is to trust people like us, I think I can guess how you’re feeling.”

Jack catches Ryan’s eyes, almost asking a silent question before slowly placing her hand on top of his. Ryan has to force his hand to stay in place, and he doesn’t have to try very hard, much to his own surprise.

“So we won’t force you. I said it on the rooftop, and I meant it then. I mean it now, too. This is your choice, and I don’t want you to feel pressured into this just because our names happen to be on your skin. Don’t get me wrong, we’re all excited to finally have found you. I practically had to force the rest of them to stay behind and not tag along, which was a task in and of itself.”

“I appreciate it,” and Ryan can’t keep the relief from his voice. Her hand is a comforting weight on his, and he has to force himself from turning his hand over and weaving their fingers together.

A silence hangs over the two of them for a moment, and Ryan can’t quite bring himself to look Jack in the eye, his gaze fixed on their hands. Her fingers are long and lithe, the knuckles scarred and the pads calloused from who knows what. He can guess of course: firing guns might make the hand tougher, and so will working on cars or doing anything physical for long enough. The scars on the backs of her hands are probably from impact, and for a moment a spike of thrill runs through him; the idea of someone as kind and beautiful as Jack holding her own in a fight is a thought that probably shouldn’t be as exciting as it is.

Jack leans back suddenly, and Ryan finds himself missing the heat on his hand. “Well, that’s kind of a heavy conversation to lead with, but I just wanted you to know. Why don’t we dig in?” Jack motions to the food, all nonchalance now, and Ryan wishes that he’d ordered something more substantial than a salad. His nervous stomach hadn’t been very hungry when he’d ordered, but now that some of the anxiety has drained away Ryan suddenly realizes that he hadn’t eaten breakfast.

Jack’s a few bites through her burger when she straightens up suddenly, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “How about a little game to get to know each other, hm?” Ryan chews thoughtfully for a moment before nodding his consent. “How about this: I tell you one random fact about me, and you tell me one in return. It doesn’t have to be anything revealing or specific, but just a little something so we can get familiar. Sound good?”

“What are we, twelve?”

Jack just shrugs. “Gavin’s a bad influence, and he’s barely mature enough to be eleven.” Ryan chuckles under his breath, and something in him wants to meet Gavin, if only to see how true Jack’s statement is. The whole idea seems a bit…invasive, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t want to hear more about Jack.

“Well, let’s give it a shot.” Besides, he could always lie if he wanted to.

“One random fact about me,” Jack starts, tapping her chin thoughtfully, “is that I enjoy watching YouTube videos of failed stunts.”

Ryan laughs, and it hits him that it’s been a long time since he’s laughed like that. “Yeah, everyone loves that.”

“You’d be surprised! I’ve met a few people who can’t watch them; they said it gives them ‘sympathy pains’,” and Ryan can’t help but chuckle when she actually does the air quotes. “Your turn,” she says, pointing her fork at him.

Ryan leans back, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. “A random fact about me,” he starts, and for a moment the impulse to lie pops up, but the way that Jack is looking at him with attentive interest banishes that thought, “I don’t think clowns are creepy.”

“What?!” Jack yelps, and a couple patrons turn to look at them, but for once Ryan doesn’t mind.

The rest of the conversation passes before Ryan even realizes, and it isn’t long before he’s nearly doubled over laughing at a story that Jack is telling; something about Michael and Gavin getting into trouble with a box of fire crackers and a few too many cans of beer. Jack’s hands are flying, her whole body animated as she retells it, and Ryan can’t help but feel an unfamiliar fondness, both for the people in the story and the person telling it.

Ryan feels something akin to regret when the waiter comes around with their bill, and it’s far too soon that they’re walking down the sidewalk, conversation still flowing and their arms almost close enough to touch.

Not much time has passed when Jack turns to Ryan, and he is acutely aware of the space in between them, both too much and too little all at once.

“Well I should probably be heading back,” Jack says.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want the others to think I’ve gone and murdered you,” Ryan jokes, and Jack just shrugs it off with a laugh. “I’m a little surprised that they let you come alone, if I’m being honest.”

“It was a bit of an ordeal, to be frank. And it took a lot of convincing, especially Geoff and Michael. But he knows I can take care of myself, and both Gavin and I think you’re trustworthy.”

An image of the British man jumps to the forefront of his mind, and he absently presses a thumb into the name on his wrist, his pulse thrumming just under the mark.

“But I did have fun. Maybe we could do it again sometime? Maybe with a couple of the others too?”

Ryan can hear the hope if her voice, and part of him wants to simply say no and walk away. Perhaps its fear, maybe its suspicion, but something in his gut simply wants to run and leave this whole fiasco behind. But as he turns back to Jack, meets her green eyes and see the small smile on her lips, that resolve crumbles, and he finds himself grinning in response.

“Maybe,” he says, and Jack’s grin widens.

“Just call whenever you’re ready. We’ll be looking forward to it.” Jack pats his arm, and Ryan enjoys the warmth for a moment before Jack is turning away, heading down the street and into the crowd. “Stay safe, Ryan.”

By the time Ryan finds his voice again Jack has already disappeared, leaving Ryan alone in the sea of pedestrians. He turns on his heel, shoving his hands into his pockets and making his way back towards his bike.

Ryan isn’t quite sure what he was expecting to happen. Definitely not a kiss at the end of the—meeting? Date?—, maybe just a pleasant conversation and a farewell. He certainly hadn’t anticipated an invitation for another outing, let alone an outing with another one of his soulmates.

Still. It was nice being able to just talk with someone, to laugh and share stories. It’s been a long time since Ryan has laughed so freely, and the idea of being able to do it again has a pleasant warmth rising in his chest.

Ryan turns down the alley, pulling his bike out onto the street and tearing down the road, zipping down the highways at a speed most would call dangerous. Ryan revels in the adrenaline though, taking corners a little too fast and getting a little closer to other vehicles than most people would be comfortable with. Still, as he speeds to his apartment, he can’t stop the rising happiness blooming in his chest, his mind already occupied with thoughts of next time.


	3. You've Got Mail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan's on a mission when he gets the text.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait for this chapter; the characters were giving me issues. But here it is! I will preface this by saying action scenes aren't my strong suit, but I tried my best, so if you have any helpful tips feel free to send them my way! (By the way, I apologize about the italics in this chapter; I couldn't get the formatting on this website to work with me.)

When the phone screen flashes, Ryan assumes it’s his current employer, a small-time drug dealer who had scraped up enough to hire him to take out some competition. The person had seemed a bit flighty and nervous, but Ryan’s almost too used to that reaction, given his reputation and generally terrifying demeanor. But, given the fact that he’s currently holed up near an abandoned warehouse, his gun pressed firmly against his back as he ducks behind a dumpster Ryan’s beginning to regret his choice of occupation.

The cover of night is convenient, but his employer had apparently fibbed about the amount of security. A few body guards, they’d said. Not very well-trained, they’d said. Easy to sneak past, they’d said. Ryan’s strong suit definitely isn’t stealth missions, but here he is, trying to sneak in between times patrols to break into the main office. The guards are more armed than he’d expected when he accepted the job, leading him to believe that either his employer had gotten the wrong information before hiring him or they are making a legitimate attempt to kill him.

Either way, Ryan plans to teach them a rather…unpleasant lesson when this job is done.

It’s taken him the better part of an hour, an hour he’d rather be spending setting fire to every dumpster and crate he has to hide behind at this point, to find his way to the right warehouse. In between trying to avoid detection and less-than-clear directions, it’s almost a miracle when he comes up to warehouse 26, and he heaves a small sigh of relief. The relief is short lived as the sounds of boots comes closer, and he ducks behind yet another dumpster, resisting the urge to use his gun. While the silencer would keep his cover relatively intact, he can’t exactly risk anyone finding multiple bodies.

He’s waiting for the patrol to pass when he feels the buzzing of his phone against his leg. He yanks it from his pocket, trying to cover the glow of the screen with a gloved hand as he squints at the words.

_‘hey ryan’ ___

__He doesn’t recognize the number. It doesn’t have a name attached. He can count the number of people who know his real name on one hand and this contact isn’t any of them. Incoming footsteps shake him from his thoughts, and he quickly fires two bullets into a passing security member, dragging their body back behind the dumpster as quietly as possible. One body won’t hurt, he reasons, and besides, he’s been itching to kill someone for almost an hour._ _

__The text message is almost forgotten as he ducks into the warehouse, the faint scent of metal overwhelmed by the stench of the drugs. There are stacks upon stacks of the stuff, each pile shrink wrapped and piled in one corner of the warehouse. It’s not the largest haul he’s ever seen, but it’s still enough to put this drug dealer above the small-time-crime range. Ryan isn’t a fan of working with anyone else, but even he can admit that this particular mission feels like a little too much for one person to take on by themselves. Ryan can feel his blood begin to boil, silently raging at his seemingly incompetent employer, but he makes his way through the shadows towards the small office in the back corner. The warehouse is thankfully empty, the only sound coming from a small office near the back right corner of the room._ _

__His phone buzzes in his pocket again, and he glances at the screen for a moment._ _

___‘ooh, stealth mission?’ ____ _

____Whoever this is can wait, he decides, shoving the device back into his pants pocket. He’s come too far already, in too deep to turn back now or even consider the source of these messages. He’ll get to whoever it is when this job is done. But for now, he ducks closer to the office, listening to the target jabbering on a phone. He doesn’t even pay attention to what the conversation is; all he can feel is the weight of his handgun against his palm, the adrenaline flooding his system, the blood rushing through his ears._ _ _ _

____His phone buzzes again, and he doesn’t even glance at the screen before shoving the already-loose door open, firing immediately at the person on the phone. His target doesn’t even have time to protest before he hits the ground, dropping to the floor behind a solid oak desk. Typically, this is the moment when Ryan would sneak back out of the base and make his escape into the night. However, before he can take a step, two men in suits shoot up from their seats, each with their guns drawn and aimed at him. He barely has time to duck back out of the small office before they’re firing at him, hitting the door where he had been standing just a second ago._ _ _ _

____The good thing about Ryan is that he had been prepared for this job, even putting a silencer on nearly every gun he’d brought with him. The bad thing is that Ryan’s newfound opponents seem to be much less concerned with subtly, and he can already hear the backup storming towards the warehouse he’s in. Ryan briefly considers fighting them all off by himself, but if the amount of people he’d seen on his way in is any indication, he’s easily outnumbered, even with his particularly violent skill set._ _ _ _

____Ryan actually glances at his phone when it buzzes again._ _ _ _

_____‘around the corner to your left, theres a back door’ ____ _ _ _

______Ryan isn’t sure how this person knows who he is, where he is, or what he’s doing, but with three fully-armed gunmen right behind him, several armed security workers thundering towards him, and only one gun, it only takes a moment to follow the message’s advice. He quickly ducks to the left, making a sharp corner around a crate, and nearly heaves a sigh of relief as he catches sight of the small door, tucked out of the way and mildly rusted. He throws his body weight against it, grateful when it swings open without much protest._ _ _ _ _ _

______Ryan now has his gun in one hand and the phone in the other, the glow nearly distracting him when it illuminates again._ _ _ _ _ _

_______‘hostiles on your left, head right and keep going’ ____ _ _ _ _ _

________Ryan barely has enough time to consider his options, listen to the mysterious stranger on the other end of the phone or wing it, before the gunfire behind him closes in, and he’s booking it right, firing behind him as much as he can while running._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Well, at least Ryan can be safe in the knowledge that his employer hadn’t been completely wrong. There may be more people than he’d been expecting, but they obviously aren’t trained mercenaries. It’s almost laughable how easy it is to evade the gunmen tailing him, and he finds himself in a shadowy corner, pressing himself between two sheds and holding his breath as footsteps thunder past him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________His phone buzzes again, and his heart nearly freezes as he sees an incoming call alert. It’s the same number that’s been texting him, but now there’s a name attached. Well, not a real name. There’s only two words on the screen, and they reveal almost nothing about this mystery person’s identity._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________‘Golden Boy’. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Ryan’s heard the name before, he’s sure. He vaguely remembers researching some of the more notorious criminals when he’d moved to this city, and he’s fairly certain that’s one of the codenames he’d stumbled across. But who in this city could possibly know who he is, have access to his phone number, and enough tech to break into the security footage of the warehouse to guide him out?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The answer hits him like a bullet, and he can’t tell if it’s the anxiety and tense situation or an inexplicable…fondness? Relief? Annoyance? that makes his chest seize. He accepts the call, lifts the phone to his ear, and prays that his hunch is right._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Gavin.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The name rolls off his tongue far too easily for his liking, and he isn’t sure if he likes the way his stomach flips when the other man giggles._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Oh, you’re clever!” the British man chirps, and Ryan considers for a moment that he’s far too nonchalant for the situation. “In a bit of a sticky situation aren’t you?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“You could say that,” Ryan growls, and presses his back further against the metal of the shed as another group passes his hiding place, shouting overtop one another in their search._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Well I’m working on an escape route now,” Gavin mumbles, and Ryan can hear the clicking of a keyboard from Gavin’s end for a moment before he’s crowing in triumph. “Got it! Just hang tight for a minute, there’s a patrol coming around in three, two, one,” Gavin says, and Ryan can’t say he’s not impressed with the man’s accuracy as two more people run past him. “Okay, now follow them for a stretch. You’ll come up on a small nook on your right in about two blocks, there’s a car there. Bonus, it doesn’t even have a tracker on it! These guys aren’t very professional.” Ryan can’t tell if Gavin’s means to come across as bitter or if he’s simply disappointed at the lack of challenge. “I trust you know how to hotwire?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Ryan says nothing, just presses his phone to ear with his shoulder and sneaks out from his hiding place, sticking to the shadows as much as he can. It’s tense, and there are a few times when he has to duck behind a crate or a corner to avoid being spotted. There’s something that almost feels unnatural to Ryan about slinking around, about avoiding confrontation instead of seeking it out. But even he has to admit that there’s no way he can take on everyone in the vicinity with a single gun, especially not alone._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Gavin’s advice gets him to the car, a small, gray four-door that honestly would look more in place at a middle schooler’s soccer tournament than next to a warehouse mostly filled with drugs and weapons. He has to press himself against a tire as someone barrels past him, their gun glinting in the flickering street lamps that litter the lot, but he’s soon alone again, the sounds of chaos and commotion still a bit too loud for Ryan’s comfort._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Ryan has his gun in the air, the butt of it ready to break the front window, but a frantic “Wait!” from Gavin has him halting. “There’s someone just around the corner, they’ll hear the glass breaking. Just…give me a second…” A beat passes, and suddenly an alarm starts sounding, loud and angry and several blocks away. Ryan catches hissed curses and the sounds of retreating footsteps before Gavin’s voice is in his ear again. “There, you’re good to go.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Why didn’t you set off the alarm earlier?” Ryan hisses as the glass window shatters underneath the butt of his gun. He quickly unlocks the door, climbing in and frantically searching for a spare pair of keys. Yes, he is fully capable of hotwiring cars, especially something as simple as this, but he has an itching feeling that Gavin’s distraction won’t last long and keys are quicker. He feels a spike of relief as the spare keys fall from the sun visor, and he slams the keys in the ignition._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I wanted to save it just in case you needed a clean getaway. And you did. You’re welcome.” The man sounds assured, edging on self-important, and Ryan can’t decide if he admires the confidence or wants to wipe the smirk he can hear off of the hacker’s face._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Well thanks, I guess,” Ryan mumbles as he pulls away from the base. Gavin’s distraction has worked much better than Ryan had expected; there’s nearly no one to stop him leaving, and those who are loitering around don’t seem to spare him a passing glance. He’s out on the highway in no time, his heart still racing in his ears and Gavin cackling gleefully over the phone._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“That was fun! Why were you all alone out there, Ryan?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Bad intel,” is all he says as he speeds down the road. He passes by a few cop cars, most likely responding to the alarms at the warehouses, but none of them seem to notice him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Oh man, I could have gotten you in and out of there in a second! Their security was a laugh, could’ve got past that with one hand tied behind my back!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Yeah, speaking of hacking, how did you get this number? Did Jack give it to you?” It’s the only reasonable scenario he can think of; she’s the only one who would have his contact info, the only one he’s talked to outside of random jobs in recent memory._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“…not really,” Gavin admits, and before now Ryan hadn’t been sure the other man was capable of sounding sheepish. “But then again the security on her phone is flimsy enough it’s almost like she handed it to me.” And there’s the cockiness Ryan’s gotten used to over the past few minutes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“And so you decided it best to not only steal my phone number, but to hack into the security cameras of the place I was sneaking in to? Is that some kind of voyeurism thing?”  
Gavin’s squawk of indignation is almost worth it, and Ryan doesn’t even try to fight the grin tugging at his lips. “Well if that’s how you’re gonna be I guess you don’t want to know about the guy who hired you for that suicide mission.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“It did feel a little…off,” Ryan admits, and he can’t deny that this whole mission had seemed a bit odd from the start. It was supposed to be a simple assassination, but it had gone downhill far too quickly for his liking. There’d been too many hired thugs, too many guns, and too few hiding places. Not to mention that fact that there were armed guards in the office with the target. It was almost too much of a coincidence._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Well if you’re curious, why don’t you meet me tomorrow? Four o’clock, at that small park near Fifth Street?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“What if I have plans?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“You don’t, I checked,” Gavin said airily, See you tomorrow, lovely Ryan!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The line goes dead, and Ryan tries to focus on the road, on the traffic, on getting to a secure location, but his mind is racing. He thumbs his left wrist absently as the city landscape blends into a monotone blur of cars and small town homes. Gavin, Ramsey’s Golden Boy, one of the most notorious hackers on the West Coast, is an enigma at best. Ryan’s heard of him, of course; even aside from his own research on the city’s criminal population, the man’s reputation is widespread. Able to get in and out of a bank’s security system without so much as raising an alarm, they say. So with his reputation and expertise, it’s no wonder that Gavin was able to pull up Ryan’s phone number, especially when Jack already has it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________But he’d known about the job. He’d known about the hit, about the time and location, about the security cameras. He’s known about the car, and about Ryan’s employer, hell, he’d even admitted to checking on Ryan’s plans for tomorrow. Everything about the situation has Ryan on edge, and his thoughts are still racing when he pulls up to his safe house, a small run-down apartment complex with a small studio near the end that seems to permanently unoccupied. He kills the ignition, grabs his gear from the passenger’s seat, and stalks inside, hardly caring at this point if he’s seen. It’s not like anyone in the other apartments would call the police if they see him, and it’s unlikely the police would respond even if they did._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The inside of the apartment is rather small and cramped, the bed and a small counter the only major features in the room. The walls are crumbling and the wallpaper is peeling near the ceiling, and Ryan isn’t sure whether it’s the mold in the corners or the smell emanating from the small bathroom that has deterred anyone from renting this place out. It almost seems like the landlord has labelled this particular apartment a lost cause, if the persistently deteriorating state is anything to go by._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________But Ryan doesn’t notice any of this. He tosses his gun onto the small bed, hands tearing through his hair as he paces the room. Everything was simple three weeks ago. None of his information was compromised, his jobs were straight-forward and simple, and he didn’t have this soulmate shit hanging over his head. Now, someone he’s only met once apparently has access to every aspect of his personal life, his employer seems to have either royally underestimated their opponent or is willfully trying to get Ryan killed, and the person who has suddenly jumped into their life and set these events into motion is his soulmate._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Ryan flops onto the bed, moving his handgun from the mattress to the nightstand and throwing an arm over his face. He can almost feel Gavin’s name in front of his eyes, the script burning into his skin as Ryan’s thoughts circle around the idea of the man behind the name. The people on Ramsey’s— Geoff’s team are infamous, but none so as invisibly so as Gavin. But Ryan had seen him on that rooftop. He’d seen his name on the man’s suntanned skin. He’d been trusted by the man despite his reputation._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________So maybe it’s time to trust Gavin in return._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The very idea sends shivers of panic up Ryan’s spine; the idea of trusting someone he doesn’t know personally, someone who has unfettered access to any information Ryan may want to keep hidden, sends his thoughts in a spiral of panic. But then Ryan catches a glimpse of his wrist, of the looped name there, and something in his stomach flutters.  
After being on his own for so long, so long working jobs by himself and not being able to rely on anyone once a situation goes sour, knowing that someone had his back had been…nice. In his profession, jobs tend to go sideways more often than not, and knowing that there was someone looking out for him was definitely unexpected, but not entirely unpleasant._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Yes, Gavin had accessed his information, but he’d used it to get Ryan out of what would have certainly been a deadly situation. He could have sent him down the wrong turn, could have turned on an alarm and sent every armed guard to his location, could have stopped Ryan’s mission before it had even started._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________But he hadn’t._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Ryan groans, rolling over on the bed and yanking the threadbare blanket over him. The face paint itches a bit and his leather jacket is a bit uncomfortable, but Ryan squeezes his eyes shut anyway, trying to shut out the thoughts of the Golden Boy rattling around in his head._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a multi-chaptered fic in this fandom, so feel free to leave a comment or kudos if you'd like, and feel free to let me know if you'd like to see more!


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